


A Dagger with Curves in All the Right Places & Other Snippets

by Farla, illhousen



Category: Fate/stay night (Visual Novel), The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Genderswap, Drama, F/M, Gen, M/M, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farla/pseuds/Farla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/illhousen/pseuds/illhousen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Dresden enters the Holy Grail War as caster's Master. Canon-compatible with F/SN. Now together with other unrelated Harry Dresden ficletts!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Act](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Act), [Falconix](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Falconix).



> Disclaimer: I do not share any and all opinions and attitudes expressed by Dresden here.

"...I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven. I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades."

As I recited the ancient oath, I smirked imagining Morgan's expression should he see me now. The old Enforcer would be aghast at the casual invocation of all evil. But sometimes you have to cross lines to do the right thing. Now was one of those moments.

It wasn't easy finding information about the Holy Grail War. Requesting it from the Association obviously wasn't an option, so I had to do with Bob who demanded to be freed for a whole week. Some persuasive arguments involving a threat to throw him into a well allowed me to cut that time to two days.

It was a good thing I was in Japan now, so neither Murphy nor Morgan could blame the ensuing events on me.

In the end I've got what I wanted. The Holy Grail War (which was actually closer to the Holy Grail Bar Brawl) was a contest between seven wizards. Each summoned a great hero of myths and legends to fight by his side. The last man with a Servant still alive would witness the revelation of the Holy Grail - an artifact capable of granting any wish.

It was a great temptation. With such a power I could achieve anything. World peace, infinite wealth, power beyond imagination. Hell, I could even make Murphy wear a dress for once. Though I wasn't too sure such a miracle could really be granted.

In the end, though, there was one thing that I truly wanted. One thing for which I would fight in a death tournament: resurrection of the first girl I've ever kissed. She was the only good thing I had in my life for a long time before Mister came along. And, even though she was a lost cause at the time, I still felt responsible for her death.

If I could get a second chance for her, it was worth fighting.

“...Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words, come past they restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance –!”

I finished the chant. For a moment the circle lit up brightly, blinding me. When I could see again, there was a figure in the middle of the circle which I did not expect.

When I was imagining what kind of Servant I will summon (I could not afford to purchase a relic to force the matter, my funds were exhausted as it is), I thought of Heracles and King Arthur and Gilgamesh: men who reforged the world around them with their words and their swords. Noble warriors ready to penetrate any foe in their way with deadly naked steel.

It was not the case here. What I saw was delicate and fragile, like a flower ready to be crushed under a callous man's foot.

Before me stood a young woman with fair features and curves I had trouble making out under her heavy cloak. She wasn't a warrior. She was a girl wearing her mother's clothes and pretending to be an adult.

Call me a chauvinist, but in this moment I understood why so many kings in stories put their daughters in high towers, away from the cruelties of the world. I wanted to do the same.

***

Medea...

The revelation of her identity changed everything. What I mistook for an innocent flower was a poisonous forbidden fruit.

Her beautiful looks, her delicate manners, her cute pout when she didn't get her way - all was but a facade designed to lure men like Jason to their doom.

I had to be careful. I could all too easily see myself in place of Jason, falling for a pretty face and not noticing a dagger hidden behind her back until it's too late.

Cutting her supply of magical power was a logical move. Witches like her naturally excelled in subtle curses. They had much more hate to spare, and Medea clearly wasn't an exception, what with killing her own children out of spite and jealousy.

Some would think it's counter-productive, given there was a war ahead of us - Medea said as much. But, not to brag, they didn't have as much experience with this type of conflict as me.

War is not a place for subtlety. There is no use in poisoning an enemy or making him impotent when he thrusts a sword in your face.

Wizards like me are better suited for it. We are like hammers: blunt, heavy and setting everything on fire. Well, maybe not exactly like hammers.

Either way, cutting Medea's supply of power meant I had more to use, which was sure to prove useful in the upcoming battle.

Unfortunately, that argument didn't convince Medea, so I had to use a Command Seal to make her drop the subject. I had to make clear that we couldn't establish a working relationship if she were to second-guess my every decision. It was bad enough that I had to second-guess hers. It's too bad that "follow my commands" is a too general order for the Command Seals to work properly, but at least I could threaten her with them should she step out of line.

***

"The base could be improved if I were to use my power," Medea said.

When did it come to this? Both innocent child and woman scorned disappeared, leaving behind only nagging wife.

I sighed.

"The base is fine. I enchanted the perimeter. I am no good in illusions, so it won't conceal the place," I admitted self-deprecatingly, "but it should endure under assault."

"But it could be better. We are going against Heroic Spirits. Every drop of power matters."

Clearly, she wasn't about to let go of the tangent. I very much doubted she could improve the defenses. She probably just wanted to change the aesthetic of an admittedly dreary place. Bachelor lifestyle I enjoyed before now wasn't conductive to tidiness. Clothes carelessly thrown around and coffee mugs left on the table probably grated on her nerves. At least she didn't demand to change wallpapers or move the furniture to other side of the room only to move it back when she didn't like the new look.

I decided to humor her.

"Fine, fine, you may do it."

"R-right now?" Her haughty demeanor disappeared in an instant. She looked like a schoolgirl who has forgotten the answer and was desperately biding for time hoping that a bell would save her from teacher's scolding.

"Yes, what's the matter?"

"Well, I..."

I waited patiently. There will be no bell to save her.

"I... don't have enough power to do it," she said in a tiny voice.

I sighed. That was so her: acting tough, claiming the patronage of gods and ancient powers. But when it came down to walking the walk, she deflated instantly.

"It's no use trying to jump over your head," I chided her gently. "How can I trust you to support me in battles if you constantly overestimate your abilities?"

She looked at me pleadingly. Damn, a man could drown in those eyes.

Damn my chivalry. I never could walk away from a girl in distress.

"Oh, well, I suppose I should lend you a hand," I said, noting how her face lit up in joy. "By the power of the Holy Grail, I order you, Caster: use your power to change that building in accordance with your wishes."

As I said that, the last Command Seal disappeared from my hand, leaving behind a faint burn scar.

I looked around. Nothing has changed. Was even the power of a Command Seal not sufficient?

I looked back at Caster. She was smiled like a canary who managed to poke a cat in the eye.

"You know, _Master_ , I am probably going to disappear soon, but somehow I fail to feel any regrets."

I smiled at her reassuringly.

"You aren't going to disappear on my watch. You aren't strong, but with m-"

The world exploded around me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The snippet was written at a prompt received on http://dragon-quill.blogspot.ru/ which does critical analysis of both DF and F/SN currently.  
> It is intended as a mockery of sexism prevalent in the first book.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's Roarke's take on the Fate/Stay Night and Harry Dresden crossover, inspired by chatter on a [Let's Play post of Fate/Stay Night](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/10/fate-stay-night-ubw-february-12.html).

_Roarke:_

Caster glanced up at my face and immediately looked away, fearing the glimpses she got of my alphanoir soul every time she did so. 'Please, Master,' she breathed in a faint and demure sigh. 'The Command Spell doesn't just compel my actions. It strengthens them, too. I just... I just can't do this without your help.'

Classic damsel in distress. For the original woman scorned, Medea really knew how to pull the strings on a guy. I put on my best understanding smile and raise a hand to present my Command Spell. 'Alright, you win. I order you, Caster,  _use your magic to light up the room!_ '

It's hell on the budget to pay for utilities in a country like Japan. I already damn near beggared myself renting out this old warehouse to use as my base for a month, and I've only had the one airport meal since this "Holy Grail War" started. When I drew the magic circle in complete darkness, wearing my old flannel robe for warmth, I'd hoped I could at least get a strong Servant by summoning earlier than the rest.

Luck, as always, wasn't on my side. Installing the heating, lighting, and clean water through magic is about the only useful thing Caster's done since I summoned her. It cost me a Command Spell each time, but that's alright. I don't expect to find much of a tactical use for her beyond maintaining this base. She can keep Bob company, since I'm getting a little worried about his raving about "Japanese schoolgirls" ever since he strongarmed his way into this trip, figuratively speaking. It wouldn't do to draw attention in this War. The Magic Association seems even more crocked than the White Council. I'll take Morgan and his sword over vivisection any day.

'Master?' Caster's voice comes from behind me. She sounds weirdly excited; I wonder if a mouse in the corner startled her or something. I bet that's the case. I sigh internally and turn around--

_shank_

\----

 

_Harry used the second Command Seal to make Medea cast a small glamour on her face to make it look like she_ wasn't _wearing makeup, which confused her so much she almost forgot about killing him._

_Bonus: it didn't even do anything, because the command seal couldn't figure out what the order was either._

Something that could only be called a paradox surged through her body, granting the power to fulfill a compulsion that was somehow hollow and meaningless. Magical energy collected at the tips of her fingers and dispersed impotently into the air. Her Master looked at her with a critical eye and nodded. "Perfect," he said. "I can't even tell the difference." 

 

Caster was one step closer to her goal, one step closer to ridding herself of this repulsive creature once and for all. But she knew, with a cold, blank certainty, that she would return to the Throne of Heroes, the exalted domain of immortal rest, thinking of this Command Seal and the man she tricked into using it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the comments on chapters [9](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/10/dresden-files-storm-front-ch9-part-2.html) and [10](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/10/dresden-files-storm-front-ch10.html), changing a bunch of descriptions to be aimed at the men instead.

 

 

[illhousen](https://disqus.com/home/user/illhousen/)

"I didn't flinch. I met his bottomless gaze and quirked my mouth up in a little smile, as though I had something more, and worse, to pull out of my hat if he wanted to come after me again. I saw his anger, his rage, and for just a moment I got a peek inside, saw the source of it. He was furious that I had seen his true face, horrified and embarrassed that I had stripped his disguise away and seen the tiger beneath.   
And he was afraid that I could take away even his rubber mask with steel frame, forever, with my power. More than anything else, Marcone wanted to be beautiful."

 

 

 [Roarke](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/10/dresden-files-storm-front-ch10.html#comment-1636111549)

"Why," I asked him, the words slipping out before I thought about them. "Why the slut act?"

He looked down at me again, and smirked. I saw the subtle shifting in him, magnifying that sort of ponderous dignity he had, once more, as he had been doing when he first approached me-but it didn't hide the self-loathing in his eyes. I looked away, quickly, before I had to see any more of it. I got the feeling that I didn't want to see Morgan's soul. "Because it's what I do, Mr. Dresden. For some people it's drugs. Booze. For me, orgasms. Sex. Passion. Just another addict."

 

 

 [illhousen](https://disqus.com/home/user/illhousen/)

 "Maybe my values are outdated but I come from an old school of thought. I think that women ought to treat men like something other than just taller, less endurable women with cocks."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From [chapter 13](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/10/dresden-files-storm-front-ch13.html), on how the gun discussion slowed down the fight scene.

  
 [Roarke](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_VSuM7P4BpH/)

"Susan, stop! That's my .38 Chief's Special you're holding! Demon, take five. Listen, Susan. You can't just pick up anything in my lab like it's a kitchen knife. That thing holds six rounds, and the simplicity of its mechanisms allow me to use it despite being a wizard. It's filled with ordinary bullets (JHP or FMJ?) that are struck in the percussion cap by a lever to make simple use of explosive physics to gain the linear velocity needed to punch through surfaces at supersonic speed. Alright? So put the thing back in the lab and drink the lo- the potion. Oh, you already did?  _Fantastic_.

"Demon, I appreciate the time, but I'm in a bit of a hurry now. I'm afraid I'll have to cut short our honorable duel between men."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swapping Rodriguez and Morgan in [chapter 13](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/10/dresden-files-storm-front-ch13.html).

[sliz225](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_Bbb02RvhFk/):

"Morgan turned away from me as I hung up his coat. His shirt showed his pectorals, the long curve of his muscles, all the way down to his waist. It had a fairly tame hemline, and long, tight sleeves. I liked it. A lot."

 

[Roarke](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_VSuM7P4BpH/):

Morgan turned back to me after hanging up his coat, refusing to give it up at the door like a woman might. His shirt strained against his pectorals, the rigid lines of his muscles, all the way down to his waist. His every movement threatened to rip the seams on his long, tight sleeves. I liked it. A lot.

I looked back up at his face to realize he'd caught me staring. "This had better be good, Dresden," he rumbled. I noticed that his hand was back on the hilt of his sword. "If I don't like what I hear..." he left the thought unfinished.

I gave him a smirk that was two parts smug and one part grim. "Oh, you'll like this, Morgan. I've got a lead on the case." I was proud of myself for working it out. Not just for bringing me one step closer to catching the culprit, but... "I swear, you won't regret coming tonight." I turned my back to him and walked, making him follow me.

For an old guard like Morgan, slow seduction is best. His type takes a while to get going, but once they do they'll tear you apart like the storm of the century. And speaking of... "The thaumaturgic spell to pop out a person's heart takes more power than almost any living wizard can bring to bear." I said  _almost_  because I can do it. I'm not sure it'd be warranted otherwise. "But it happens that lately, the city's had an excess of magical power just floating around, free to the public."

I pointed upward. Mother Nature indulged my penchant for the dramatic with a flash of lightning and thunder that I'd almost swear shook the room. I threw a glance over my shoulder just in time to see Morgan work it out in his big, slow head, and then I knew I had him by the nose.

I put on my best somber face before Morgan could refocus and catch me grinning. "There'll be another murder, tonight, Morgan. I can't find out who the killer is, and even if I knew I don't know if I'd be able to...  _apprehend_  him in time." Close. I almost tripped and said  _'kill'_  there.

Morgan took a threatening step forward, but there was a sort of confusion in the movement. I confronted him by also stepping forward. "All I can do is prove to you that I'm not the killer... by being with you the whole night while it happens."

I could see the internal strife working its way across Morgan's face, tightening his rugged jaw and narrowing his hard eyes. If I'm telling the truth and I'm not the killer, an innocent will die tonight, probably Linda Randall, but I have no reason to tell him that. But Morgan has to stay. He thinks I'm the killer, so he'll never listen to me. He'll make that mistake, just for stubborn pride if nothing else.

"Dresden... I will give you this one night." He bared an inch of steel, and I suppressed a shiver. "If you are playing me false, I will call a meeting of the Council, and behead you before their eyes."

"And if I'm not?"

"... Then I will accept your aid in finding the true killer."

I tried not to show the triumph on my face. Morgan is still all business right now. I need to respond in kind. He's going to give me one night. That's all I asked for, and that's all I need. If I can't sway Morgan in a night, there's always Bob's potion... but no. That would be like admitting I couldn't get Morgan to like me on my own.

 

[sliz225](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_Bbb02RvhFk/):

"Morgan wasn't like other men. He didn't feel a need to flaunt his pectorals in a low-cut top or show off his biceps in a undershirt. Yet he seemed oblivious to his own appeal. I liked how unaware Morgan was of the fact that even modestly clothed, he was attractive. He didn't feel a need, like some men, to put on lots of dye in his hair or any other fake, unnatural additives. His cologne was applied tastefully, not obtrusively or tastelessly."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swapping Randall and Morgan in [chapter 15](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/11/dresden-files-storm-front-ch15.html).

[sliz225](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_Bbb02RvhFk/):

One, she would start thinking like a cop. It would not be hard to find out that Morgan wasn't exactly a high-fidelity piece of equipment. That he had numerous lovers on both sides of the fence. What if he and I were closer than I was admitting? What if I'd used magic to kill his lovers in a fit of jealous rage and then waited for another storm to kill him, too? It sounded plausible, workable, a crime of passion-Murphy had to know that the DA would have a hell of a time proving magic as a murder weapon, but if it had been a gun instead, it would have flown.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speculation on Marcone's motivation from [chapter 17](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/11/dresden-files-storm-front-ch17.html#comment).

 

[Roarke](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_VSuM7P4BpH/):

"I just don't see it, Boss." Lawrence wiped the sweat off his forehead with a bare hand, then wiped that hand on the pinstriped trousers I'd had tailored for him. I made a mental note to buy him a handkerchief. "This guy, Dresden. I don't know what you see in him. He's a rat."

My habitual smile grew a little wider at Lawrence's thoughtless insult to rodents. "He may be, Lawrence," I began, stepping out of the limousine and handing Lawrence my coat. "But I've always thought it a shame mankind never domesticated vermin. Like all things, they can have their uses." Sniffing out another man's cheese. Carrying plague. "From a business standpoint, I have decided that if Mister Dresden has resolved to involve himself, I should make the best use of his efforts I can without openly allying myself with him."

The clouds refused to part, as they had for the last week. I had recorded murders occurring on the dates of storms in my personal notebook, and surges of ThreeEye sales following in the days thereafter. Coming to the conclusion that storms were related to the magic my adversary was using allowed me to set a timetable on my actions and tentative projections for the future.

That's why the matter was quickly becoming urgent. I sped up my pace almost imperceptibly with the exigencies of it. I could not spare the time for Dresden's dawdling, charming as I found it. As I had seen within his gaze at our first meeting, he had the naive soul of an indolent child underneath his bravado. I had to spur him into action. I needed to make him believe that he was next. It was time to make Harry into a man.

I could not quite quash the endearing tenor to my voice as I continued giving Lawrence his orders. "I have told you all often that one must not take half-measures. In business, war, and love, one must put forth the greatest effort possible from the beginning. Whether one is a schoolyard boy seeking a lock of his sweetheart's hair, or a business man protecting his interests." Or both at once, I left unsaid.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 23](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/11/dresden-files-storm-front-ch23.html) and speculation on why the wizard police's actual policing is so bad.

[illhousen](https://disqus.com/home/user/illhousen/):

Harry: Why the hell are you following me? Don't you have other crim- I mean, actual criminals to catch or something?  
Morgan: Well, you know how the existence of the Council is secret?  
Harry: Yes.  
Morgan: And you know how our policy is to kill anyone who learns about the Council?  
Harry: Yes?  
Morgan: Well, as it happened, you are the only one who knows about us while not being in the Council yourself.  
Harry: So, you are saying...  
Morgan: Yes. You are our only subject, so we are pretty much just governing you now.

[sliz225](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_Bbb02RvhFk/):

Harry: But you always vanish and reappear when it's convenient to the plot. You're pretty shit at your job even when you don't take into account that you've got nothing else going on in your life. How come my super-oppressive surveillance is so spotty?

Morgan: . . . budget cutbacks.

Harry: But you're a group of wizards--

Morgan: it's budget cuts okay just shut up jesus Harry  


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we end (for now???) with a rewrite of a scene in [Chapter 27](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.com/2014/12/dresden-files-storm-front-ch27.html).

[Roarke](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_VSuM7P4BpH/) : 

Morgan's face was over mine, and I realized he'd been giving me CPR. He was drawing away slowly, certain now that I was awake. His graying hair clung to his scalp; his ponytail, thickened by rain, swayed loosely between us.

As those grey eyes grew slowly more distant, I felt an urge to reach out and stop him. The CPR couldn't be over. I was awake, alive. I needed it now more than ever. But my arms felt like they were wrapped in thick sheets of lead, my shoulders stuck to the ground by railroad spikes. I could barely make my fingers twitch.

I coughed weakly, and sputtered "You saved me."

Morgan paused, kneeling over me. He watched me, eyes and expression somber. "Yes."

I knew he would. Even after the chair at Mac's, and the demon that interrupted our night together, I knew Morgan wouldn't leave me to die. Still, I felt my mouth form a question. "But why?"

Our gaze met for the briefest of moments before Morgan turned away. He twisted his body to reach something behind him, and I blankly watched his soaked white shirt sticking to his skin, following the motion of his hard, disciplined warrior's body.

At any other time, I would have enjoyed it deeply, but pain and fatigue threatened to drop me back in the darkness if I got too agitated.

Morgan stood, with his scabbard in one hand and three-and-a-half feet of wet, naked steel in the other. Light and shadow danced on the blade, reflecting the burning sanctuary of the late Victor Sells. He muttered a spell that wiped the blade dry and sheathed it. He took a deep breath, and only then did he turn back to me.

"Because I saw what happened in there. You weren't the killer."

He was lying. I'd already proved to him that I wasn't the killer. Deep down, he knew. So I pressed. "That doesn't mean you had to save me."

He blinked, feigning puzzlement with more skill than I'd have expected of a hard, forthright old man. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that saving me had nothing to do with someone else being the killer. You could have let me die." I could see it in his eyes as I said it. He knew. He'd never admit it aloud, and might never admit it to himself, but I knew.

Morgan loved me. That's all the reason you need to save someone. I wasn't going to ask him to say it. I couldn't disrespect his right to say it in his own time. But I would wait however long it took to hear the words. Wizards live a long, long time.

Morgan buckled the scabbard back to his belt and drew his coat over it, buying himself time to choose his words, like always. If I'd had the breath, I might have laughed. He straightened and focused his gaze on a point just over my eyes. "You weren't guilty. You're a part of the White Council. I had an obligation to preserve your life. It was my duty."

Looks like I had more breath than I thought. Laughter bubbled out of me, mixing with the crackling and groaning of the burning house, the patter of rain, and the rumble of thunder to make the strangest music. Morgan's expression turned grim for an instant, and dissolved into... sadness?

"I will report your conduct to the Council on Monday. They will lift the Doom of Damocles from you."

Lift the... Doom? Wait, no. My battered brain kicked into gear, sprinting for the conclusion at the finish line, with rampant anguish hot on its tail. Lift the Doom. No continuous scrutiny. No immediate execution. No  _Morgan_.

I looked up at the figure standing over me, as if seeing him for the first time. He carried himself like he might have to draw the sword and do battle at any given moment. In the years before, that had frightened me, kept me awake at night, knowing the only reason he would draw the sword would be to kill me. But now, I saw, he looked like a protector. Stern and strong as a castle wall.

Every time I turned my back to the light, Morgan was there. Losing him would be like losing my shadow.

"No," I croaked. I should have just killed Victor Sells and claimed self-defense, like I did my mentor. Better to have died on Morgan's blade than this. "I'm still... a danger... you don't understand, Morgan." I coughed. When I tried forcing my tired body to move, to sit up, to  _reach_  him, my hip sent lightning up my spine and forced me back down. "The house... I felt it. The temptation is always there."

Morgan looked down at me with the saddest smile I have ever seen. "I don't believe that of you anymore, Dresden." He stepped back.

"It's true!" I turned my head, trying desperately to catch him in a soulgaze, to convince him in any way I could that I needed him at my back. But Morgan was already looking away, his gray eyes as unreachable as clouds hanging over a distant mountaintop.

"Help will be arriving soon." Morgan began to walk away. "Goodbye, Dresden."

I could hear sirens approaching from the distance to add a crescendo to the night's music. But for me, the show was already over.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few snippets were missed, so let's rectify it. From [chapter 23](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.ru/2014/11/dresden-files-storm-front-ch23.html), another gender swap between Morgan and Murphy.

[sliz225](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_Bbb02RvhFk/): 

"My own hands were too broad, but Morgan had delicate little wizard's hands, except where practice with his staff had left calluses. If he had heard me thinking that, and had been conscious, he would have punched me in the mouth for saying his hands weren't as manly as mine. I worked at his hand, squeezing his limp, slimy fingers together and trying to slip the steel loop of the handcuffs over his hand. I took some skin off of him, and he groaned a lot, but I managed to get the cuffs off of his wrist. In the future, we were definitely setting up better safe words before this sort of embarrassing thing happened again."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More snippets from [Dresden Files Inequity](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.ru/2014/11/dresden-files-inequity.html#more). In which Harry's casual sexism is replaced with archaic one.

[sliz225](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_Bbb02RvhFk/):

Harry: "Murphy, don't look! Your delicate, feminine sensibilities couldn't handle it."  
Murphy: [peering around him] "What? It's just heartsplosions, Harry. You do remember that I'm a cop, ri--urk! Why are you grabbing me?"  
Harry: "I'm trying to catch you and lower you gently to the ground. I know the gruesome scene will give you the vapors any second. There isn't a fainting couch handy, and I didn't want you to swoon into the dirt."  
Murphy: [shaking herself free] "Jesus fuckin' Christ, Harry, I'm not swooning."  
Harry: "A--a LADY swearing?" [Harry swoons]

[Roarke](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_VSuM7P4BpH/):

Their first meeting would be even better.  
Murphy: Harry Dresden, Wizard, I presume?  
Harry: Yes, dear lady, that is I. [grabs her hand and kisses it sloppily] How may I assist you on this fine day?  
Murphy: [looks around office for a box of tissues] I'm a detective with the Chicago Paranormal Investigations Unit. I need your help solving a missing persons case.  
Harry: I see... [picks up phone, hits 911] Hello, yes, operator? There seems to be a woman impersonating a policeman in my office.

[sliz225](https://disqus.com/home/user/disqus_Bbb02RvhFk/):

Murphy: [to criminal] "You're under arrest."  
Harry: "Now, now. I think this little 'I'm a lady-cop' joke has gone on long enough, Murphy. Step aside and let one of the real cops perform the arrest."  
Murphy: "For the last time, Dresden, I'm actually a cop."  
Harry: [laughing heartily] "Sure you are, sure you are, sweetie."  
Murphy: "Goddamnit, Dresden. Do you see my badge and gun?"  
Harry: "Gasp! Who let you near a firearm. Quickly, my dear, allow me to remove the dangerous weapon from your person."  
Murphy: "Touch it and I punch you."  
Harry: [doubling over in laughter] "Ah, another clever joke. As though a member of the fairer sex would stoop to physical violence. Ahahaha..."  
Murphy: "....You're lucky you're useful, Dresden."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let us end with something hot. From [Dresdenin complete](http://dragon-quill.blogspot.ru/2014/12/dresdening-complete.html) post.  
> Happy Old New Year, everyone.

[illhousen](https://disqus.com/home/user/illhousen/):

"Boss, not that I doubt you but... are you sure it's wise?"

Normally Marcone wouldn't tolerate being challenged like that. But John worked for him for a long time and proved his loyalty. It was... good business to indulge loyal people from time to time.

"Mr Dresden," Marcone said, "does nothing of importance unless his well-being is directly threatened. Since it would be beneficial for us to have him on the case, we shall provide him with a... proper motivation."

"But breaking in his home..."

"Is the best course of action. I've studied him, don't forget. He needs his implements to be truly prepared, and he is in habit of carrying them only when he knows there is going to be a fight. Inside his home he will be relaxed. And, of course, inviding his home will send a certain... message. I am confident in taking this risk."

John nodded.

"You are the boss, sir."

"And don't you forget it."

The two men reached the door to Dresden's residence. Marcone took out a small jar out of his pocket. Inside a jar a tiny embryo was suspended in formaldehyde. It slowly rotated in circle, an atrophied head moving a bit as if sniffing.

Marcone studied the fetish for a few moments before putting it away.

"As I predicted, it seems Mr Dresden didn't repair his wards after the last debacle. Everything proceeds according to the scenario." He nodded to John.

John quickly got to work. It didn't take long for him to cut the cheap locks on the newly installed door.

The two entered cautiously, drawing their guns.

The apartment appeared empty.

Stepping quietly, they searched the apartment until they reached the stairs to the basement. A noise can be heard coming from there.

Marcone listened intently. It appeared to be a voice and... moans?

Marcone smiled. If his assumption was correct, Dresden would be even less likely to pose a threat to them. He nodded to John to lead the way.

As they descended, Marcone's expression changed to frown. The smell was wrong.

There was a smell of sex, which Marcone expected, though not the intensity. But it was mixed with other odors. Marcone quickened his pace. He needed to know what he felt. He had to.

It was... ozon, he decided. And something else. He took a few more steps. Raspberry?

They were close. The voice can be heard clearly now.

"Thought it was funny to joke about throwing me into a well?" it said. "Thought I can't do anything to you?"

Marcone stopped. John stopped behind him.

It sounded like a magic problem. Not something Marcone cared to be entangled with.

He should abort the mission.

"Well, I have news for you, Master. Every binding has cracks. Every binding requires maintenance. And you are not half as smart as you think you are. Most of what you know about me you know from me or from your master. Who wasn't very eager to share his secrets with you."

He really should turn back.

Marcone stepped forward and into the basement.

Ichor covered the walls. Formless shapes twisted and coiled inside of it, reflecting the movements of the mass of flesh which occupied the room.

Hungry mouths were thrusting barbed tongues trying to catch the liqueur, lashing at the skin of impossible colors, making holes which were filled by juices poured from countless convulsing pseudopodia.

There was no design.

There was no reason.

There was no form human mind could recognize.

Yet, there was a face amidst the chaos of madness and lust.

It was a face of Harry Dresden, twisted in unearthly ecstasy indistinguishable from agony.

Marcone dropped his gun. John's followed a moment later.

"I see we have guests," said the voice with no source. "What a pleasant surprise. I do so love to watch."


End file.
